


this time you overdid the liquor

by parkernoir



Category: Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: College era, Dissociation, I dont know how to tag, One Shot, aka before flash lost his legs or found out about peter's secret identity, harry overdosed on LSD twice in canon so here we are, the girls are traumatiiiiiiized, tw for drugs / overdose ment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21982672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkernoir/pseuds/parkernoir
Summary: Harry overdosed on LSD. Flash comes to check up on Peter. Needless to say, Peter isn't doing fantastic.(The longest paragraph in this fic is Peter waxing poetic about his couch, so if that's not a selling point, I don't know what is)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Flash Thompson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	this time you overdid the liquor

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to Johnny (not of the Storm variety, of the Doc Ock kinnie variety)  
> Trigger warning for mentions of LSD abuse ...... I think that's about it

“Do you think he’s gonna be okay?” Flash asked. He looked stiff and uncomfortable, and Peter was pretty sure it wasn’t because of the couch. Okay, it was probably partly because of the couch. Peter had… okay, he would rather die than tell his friends, but he’d found the couch on the side of the road. You know how people leave couches out on the sidewalk because they don’t want them anymore? Probably because the couch had served all of its drug-smuggling, money-laundering, baby-making duties and no longer had any use to its owners? So then the couch got pummeled by dirty rain water splashed up by overconfident dudes in big trucks for days and weeks and months until some poor schmuck with a jackass for a boss and no cash to his name came by and dragged it all the way back to his apartment? 

  
  
Yeah, it was one of those couches. 

  
  
The springs were probably loose. 

  
  
“-rker.” Flash said, and Peter snapped out of his thoughts.  _ Focus, man.  _

“I washed the couch. Okay, well I just kinda stuffed the cushions in the washing machine downstairs and hoped for the best-”

  
  
“What are you talking about?” Flash asked, stretching one arm over the back of the couch. He looked like he regretted doing that. 

  
  
Peter swallowed. “...I don’t know.” 

  
  
Flash sighed and ran a hand down his face. “There is something wrong with you, Puny. I asked you a question.” 

  
  
“I said I washed the couch.”

  
  
“Why are you still talking about the couch?” 

  
  
“I just thought you’d want to know,” Peter said defensively, putting  _ his  _ arm over the back of  _ his  _ armchair. Mirroring. That was supposed to show confidence or whatever. 

  
  
“Thanks. Really appreciate it.” Flash said flatly, removing his arm from around the back of the couch. What the hell. “Do you think Harry’s gonna be okay?”

  
  
“Harry doesn’t do much,” Peter replied, laughing. He wondered whether or not he should take his arm down from the back of the armchair, or if that was weird. That was probably weird. Flash had a knack for noticing and acknowledging when Peter did weird things, so it was better to be safe than sorry. He’d learned that pretty quickly as a kid- do something weird, you’re gonna get pushed or shoved into a locker or your lunch smacked to the ground or a nosebleed or a wide array of other things that you’ll internalize for the rest of your life and- 

  
  
“Dude.” Flash said sharply, and Peter stiffened. 

  
  
“ _ What? _ ” Peter bit back with the same gnarly tone. Flash looked taken aback. 

  
  
“I  _ said _ , Harry doesn’t do much except LSD, apparently.” 

  
  
Peter knew that. Peter had seen Harry crawling on the floor, crying for help as his clothes hung from his bones. Peter had left Harry to drag himself down the stairs, begging for him to stay. Peter hadn’t cared. Peter didn’t care now. Wait. That wasn’t right. Harry had skin and muscle  _ and  _ bones. It was all just being gnawed away. Yeah. He wasn’t just bones yet. None of them were. 

  
  
Except- 

  
  
“Did you get secondhand brain damage or something, Parker? Snap out of it.” Flash said with a snap of his fingers. “I’m trying to talk to you here.”

  
  
“About what?”

  
  
“Oh, Jesus Christ.” 

Flash looked tired. Tired beyond physical exhaustion. There was something behind Flash’s eyes, like he was looking at something very far away that was approaching much too fast for anyone to prepare. Maybe there was something. Peter twisted to try to catch a glimpse at whatever Flash was always looking at. There was nothing there. Huh. Flash was probably just crazy. All of them were. 

  
  
“Sorry,” Peter offered, and Flash waved his hand in dismissal. 

“You’re fine. I know you’re probably-” Peter felt scrutinized by the look Flash gave him then- “-stressed out right now. Uh… I am too, so.” 

  
  
“That sucks,” Peter said weakly, running his fingers over the fabric beneath them. At least his armchair wasn’t an awful street find. It was a gift from that housewarming party Glory threw. Peter was pretty sure it was from Ikea. Props to whoever figured out how to put that thing together. 

“...Yeah. It does suck.” Flash said finally, eyes focusing on Peter for just a moment before fading again. “It really does. Uh… you want some water or something? You got any beer?” His leg was bouncing up and down and upanddownandupand- 

  
  
“I don’t drink,” Peter said automatically, to which Flash looked a little disappointed. 

“You’re an adult,” he tried, and Peter shrugged. 

  
  
In all honesty, he didn’t drink because he was scared. Alcohol was an inhibitor- that was why everyone liked it so much (or that’s at least what Peter assumed)-, which was risky for someone like Peter. While it was most likely difficult to get Peter drunk in the first place, he was worried he’d catch a fleeting moment of that lifted euphoria and never want to leave. A world where nothing mattered as much and the ground was wavy. It sounded nice, sure, but if Peter wasn’t at the top of his game at all times possible, how was he supposed to save people? 

  
  
He couldn’t even save people sober.  
  


  
  
“Yeah. I am. I’m an adult with sprite in the fridge.” Peter said, and Flash shook his head. 

  
  
“Whatever, dude.” He disappeared behind the refrigerator door and emerged with two cans of sprite. “You gonna be able to catch it if I throw it?” 

  
  
“Sure,” Peter answered, and watched the can fly right past him and hit the wall. 

"You sure you're doing alright, man?" Flash asked, words hesitant.   
  


  
Peter cracked open his sprite and drank half of it in one chug. "Just great."

**Author's Note:**

> This is rambly and bad but I honestly didn't know where else to go with it, so... take it


End file.
